


spangled is the earth with her crowns

by Muccamukk



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fourth Age, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: Legolas felt the urge to song leap in his heart, but he couldn't find anything in the lore of his people fit for such a one as this. There was a beauty passing strange in front of him, and none of the old words would suit it.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71
Collections: fandomtrees





	spangled is the earth with her crowns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DepressingGreenie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressingGreenie/gifts).



> Title from Sappho as translated by Anne Carson.

There wasn't any real need to camp on the road between Minas Tirith and Ithilien, but Legolas travelled slowly and claimed it was to benefit the horse. Legolas half expected that Gimli would complain of the obvious falsehood, but he simply said that less time spent in the saddle suited him well enough, and so they camped in a meadow between the road and banks of the Anduin.

Spring had begun to turn to summer, and neither of them saw a need to build any sort of shelter. They would lie under the stars, shoulder to shoulder. It seemed strange to Legolas that they'd known each other for a mere blink of an eye, perhaps ten years now, and they could make so many choices without a word said aloud. In a way, it seemed too fast, unfitting for an elf to live at the speed men did.

And yet, he found his ears straining for the distant cries of the gulls, and thought however many years he spent on Middle Earth, they couldn't be enough. How much life would they get to fit into so short a span? No wonder they lingered on the road, as though delaying a journey could stretch out time.

Legolas finished looking after their horse—the latest in a lineage of fine Rohirrim mounts, which Gimli still refused to admit had chosen him as much as Legolas—and turned to survey the meadow for a place to prepare their evening meal. Gimli was already clearing weeds from an old fire ring, and building a pile of the grasses and herbs he'd pulled free. After all those years of resting on bare earth, Gimli now insisted on building a bed for them every single night they slept in the wild.

Watching him kneeling there, dirtying his hands as he made ready took cook, Legolas felt the urge to song leap in his heart, but he couldn't find anything in the lore of his people fit for such a one as this. There was a beauty passing strange in front of him, and none of the old words would suit it. Legolas wished that he had a loremaster's or even a Hobbit's gift of verse so he could compose something new. Maybe he would ask next time their journeys took him back to his father's halls.

For now, he settled into the fragrant meadow, and reached out for the full flowers that sprang up all around him. He ran his hand over their petals, some white, and some blue, others purple and yellow together, thanking Yavanna for their creation and their names. He picked the brightest and sweetest smelling, and braided them together. The stems moved easily between his fingers, each bending according to its nature, until he had a spangled wreath, thick with blossoms.

Intent on starting the fire, Gimli didn't look up as Legolas crossed the meadow towards him. Gimli could hear even the lightest of elvish footsteps now, or perhaps he felt them through the earth, Legolas had never been able to tell. Whatever the truth, what touched Legolas to the core was that Gimli had long since ceased to feel the need to be watchful.

Legolas flipped the wreath out from behind his back, and before Gimli could so much as look up, placed it atop his curling dark hair. It settled there, a fit so perfect that only intent would dislodge it.

Gimli didn't try to remove it, just shook his head slightly, and even that might have been to settle the flowers into his hair. He continued to construct his pile of firewood into the precise little stack he always employed.

Legolas sat in a spot best calculated for its view and watched. The brightness of the flowers did set off Gimli's dark hair, the little white ones he thought of as Starry Paths especially leapt out like gemstones. And yet, the longer Legolas looked, the less it seemed to improve upon the original sturdy form of his friend. When they'd last been in the north, Legolas had tried to crown Gimli with gems, too, had even managed it for a day or two, but in the end had been the same as this.

A snippet of barely remembered song drifted through his mind, something about a maiden crowned only in stars, but he couldn't imagine that was as fine a sight as he saw now.

Gimli felt him looking and smiled at him. This time the meaning behind his slight head shake was more clear, but Legolas simply smiled back, and was content.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos totally make my day, and I very much appreciate comments of every length, percentage of emoji, and level of coherency.


End file.
